


And Then The Darkness

by NeuroWriter14



Series: NW14 Does Halloween [21]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Dark Harry, Demisexual Voldemort, Do not repost, Harry played the long con, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Human Monsters, M/M, monster au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27232030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14/pseuds/NeuroWriter14
Summary: Harry played the long con to try to get what he wanted. It went a different direction.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: NW14 Does Halloween [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946689
Comments: 10
Kudos: 241
Collections: Enabled and Approved at the Wholesome Place





	And Then The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PinkyToes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkyToes/gifts).



> For [Starry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkyToes/profile)

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. No one was supposed to die. 

Harry watched Sirius fall through the veil, sinking into it and not coming out the other side. He couldn't think, he couldn't even breathe. Someone was screaming. Sirius drifted into the veil and was gone. Arms wrapped around his body and he didn't even realize he had surged forward. He realized he was the one screaming, and the arms around him belonged to Lupin. Harry was shaking, first with grief, and then anger as the world came back to him. Sirius was murdered and as he turned his head, he realized by whom. He tore free from Lupin's grasp, ignoring the man shouting his name as he followed Bellatrix. 

Harry had known of Bellatrix for some time now. He knew she was one of the Death Eaters who tortured Neville's parents. He knew she was Sirius's cousin and Draco's aunt. Just as Draco's father was running around somewhere too. And he had never felt such intense hatred for the woman as he did now, chasing her through the Ministry of Magic. The others were long left behind by the time Harry caught up to here. She had been chanting for a minute about her killing of Sirius and Harry was angry.

He was angrier than he had ever been. He was angry at all of this. He had lost his parents. He lost his godfather. He lost a friend. His other friends were fighting for their lives somewhere behind him. They were injured and scared and hurt and Harry was murderous. 

Bellatrix angled a curse over her shoulder but Harry dodged. 

Until they were in the atrium.

"Crucio!" 

Her body froze and collapsed, but she wasn't writhing in pain. She was back up in a second, turning to grin manically at Harry. 

"Never used an Unforgivable before have you?" She taunted. "You have to-"

"Mean it?" Harry asked, cutting her off. He cocked his head at her. "I got what I wanted. You stopped. You turned and taunted." Bellatrix's eyes hardened. "You can come out now!" He yelled into the silence around them, his wand still aimed at Bellatrix. 

Bellatrix grinned as the air shifted around them. Harry knew he was there, and he wasn't at all surprised. 

"She deserves it," Voldemort whispered, somewhere behind him. "She killed him." 

But Bellatrix was grinning widely, watching with amused and eager eyes. 

"Hello, Tom," Harry said quietly, turning his head slightly to address the other, but his gaze was still on Bellatrix. "It's been a while." The room around him was silent and Harry cocked his head. "Would you really let her die?" 

"Would you really kill her?" Voldemort retorted. He could feel the crimson eyes on him. 

"Let's see." Harry's focus returned to Bellatrix. "Avada Kedavra." 

Emerald shot from his wand, tearing across the room. Bellatrix collapsed, her face eternally frozen in shock. Harry cocked his head again, watching the stillness on the floor. He expected retaliation. He expected anger. He was met with silence. After several moments, he turned, looking at the man behind him. If he could be called a man. Voldemort was more snake than man, just as he had been when he emerged from the cauldron nearly a year before. Voldemort's crimson eyes were watching him. But not with anger. 

He was curious. 

Behind him, one of the fireplaces flamed with someone coming through the Floo Network. Harry had a suspicion about who it was, but he was far too focused on Voldemort to care. 

"I'm surprised at you, Harry Potter." 

Harry's anger was still thrumming in his veins. 

"Why?" He turned to face the other more. "You've taken from me." 

"I did not take you for the vengeful type," Voldemort was oddly calm. 

Harry smirked at that. "We're all monsters here, Tom." 

Voldemort lunged forward then, wrapping a hand around the back of Harry's neck and they vanished with a soft pop. Harry had some idea of what apparition was like, given that he had accidentally apparated when he was little. But it was nothing compared to what had just happened. He assumed they had gone some distance, given the churning in his stomach and the way the world didn't settle when he did. Voldemort stepped away from him, watching him with calm eyes. 

"You just left your Death Eaters," Harry said, watching at least four Voldemort's swim in front of him.

"And you just left your friends." 

"My friends will be fine. Dumbledore will take care of them. No doubt the aurors are on their way." 

"But you won't be taken care of." Voldemort set down his hand and folded his hand together in front of him. Harry looked around the room, trying to figure out where they were. "You're a murderer now, Harry." 

"So are you," Harry walked toward a large, ornate window. The room itself was actually rather small with only a fireplace, two chairs, a kitchenette, a door that probably led to a bathroom, and a bed. "And yet here we are."

"Here we are," Voldemort agreed. "You are not the same boy I met a year ago."

"Yes I am," Harry answered, looking at the nothingness around him. "You seem to think that an hour's worth of interaction most of which was you talking constitutes all of my personality." 

Voldemort laughed at that. It was a strange noise. "We are quite alike." Harry turned to look at him over his shoulder. "I'm not everything you think I am either." Voldemort neared him. "But from what I hear, you are more like me than I thought." 

Harry turned back to the window. "Where do we go from here?" 

"Where do you want to go?" 

Harry turned then, leaning against the window to look at Voldemort. "Why did you change your appearance?" The other raised a hairless eyebrow. "I met the diary. I saw what you looked like." 

Voldemort looked down at himself. "It was a side effect." 

"Do you want to look like that?" 

"Would you prefer me to look another way?" 

Harry shrugged and looked away from a moment. When he looked back, Voldemort looked more like his younger self. He had the same wavy, chestnut hair; high cheekbones, and healthier-looking skin. His eyes were still crimson, and they were enhanced by his much redder lips, at least compared to what passed for lips beforehand. Harry swallowed thickly. 

"Would you prefer me like this, Harry?" Voldemort's voice was deeper now and Harry shuddered. 

The previous look was threatening and intimidating, this one had a completely different effect. 

"That's not fair." Harry's mouth was dry. This wasn't how he was expecting this to go either. Earlier, no one was supposed to die. And now, two were dead. He expected that he and Voldemort would have torn at each other's throats by now, except that he found himself wanting to do something much different.

"Is it not?" 

Harry lunged forward, pulling the older man down into a harsh kiss. If Voldemort was at all shocked, or not, he didn't show it. Instead, he pulled Harry closer and tilted his head for better access. Harry had only ever kissed one person before, Cho, and that was a mostly tear-filled kiss. He remembered Valentine's Day and how awkward that had been. This was nothing like that. This was as though he was set on fire. He should hate Voldemort, but in all reality, he didn't really hate him. He was angry, yes. And he didn't think he would ever not be. His family was taken from him. 

But at this moment, he didn't have time for anger. 

He pressed against the older man, feeling Voldemort press back against him. Maybe this was why Voldemort had brought him here, purposefully to a room with a bed. He hadn't gone that far with anyone before. But he wasn't thinking about that now. Instead, he was focused on the fact that for some inane reason, he was willing to go further with Voldemort of all people. The two of them moved through the room, lips glued together. Harry managed to turn them just in time as they collided with the bed that Voldemort's body was under his. He wasn't surprised when the older man's hands began roaming. 

He was honestly surprised that Voldemort was being so tolerant of this. He didn't expect the man to be all that sexual. 

"I'm not," Voldemort answered suddenly against his lips. 

Harry pulled back slightly, the two of them making eye contact. 

The other seemed to be lost in thought. Harry dropped his head onto the man's shoulder, breathing heavily. "You seem to be a strange number of exceptions for me." 

"Was Bellatrix also an exception?" Harry asked. He wasn't blind. He could see the devotion, the worship, she had for him. It was ultimately what killed her. 

"No." Voldemort rolled them so Harry was suddenly under him. "Would it bother you if she had been though?"

Harry couldn't help but notice how quickly Voldemort adjusted to the past tense when it came to her. "No." 

Voldemort bent, leaning next to his ear. "You surprise me, Harry." 

Their lips met again. 

"Will you kill me, Harry?" 

"Not yet."

Voldemort smirked then. "Teenagers." 

Their mouths collided once more. If Voldemort thought he was wound up, he must not be aware of his own body. Harry could feel the press of something hard against his thigh. He shouldn't have been surprised, but part of him was. Voldemort's mouth trailed from his lips to his neck and his hand fisted in the man's wavy hair. He wondered which face was real. The one the world saw, or the one currently buried in his neck. Not that he really cared at the moment. But it was an interesting question. 

He bucked upward, growing impatient with the lack of contact. 

Voldemort chuckled into his ear before pulling it between his teeth. The other then rolled off him and looked him over with lust-filled crimson eyes.

"Get undressed."

Harry raised an eyebrow and Voldemort rolled his eyes, a surprisingly human movement. Harry watched his long, piano-player fingers reach up and began to undo his own clothes. Harry shifted his gaze, focusing on his own clothes. They were plastered to his body with sweat, given the whole day he had been through. He thought back to Umbridge's office and then the forest and then the Ministry. All that had occurred in a matter of hours. How was he still functioning? 

The two of them were bare to each other in minutes. 

Harry swung his body over the other's pinning him to the bed. 

Why he was so much more comfortable with Voldemort of all people, he didn't know. 

Voldemort didn't say anything as Harry moved on top of him, only accepted the kiss he offered. The press of skin on skin was enough to set Harry's touch starved and overly exhausted body on fire. He had a distinct feeling though, that he wasn't the only one touch starved as Voldemort didn't shy away from his roaming hands. The two of them moved in sync as they adjusted their positions on the bed with Harry's body suddenly between Voldemort's legs.

Bare cocks rubbed together and Harry shuddered. 

"Stop thinking," Voldemort murmured, shifting his face slightly to press his lips against Harry's scar. For once, the touch didn't hurt. "Just act." 

The only problem with that statement was that Harry had no idea what he was doing. 

Voldemort waved his hand, doing something though Harry didn't know what. After a moment, the same hand moved downward, wrapping around Harry's cock. He shuddered at the touch, his head dropping for a second against the man's shoulder. Voldemort hummed and turned his head, pressing a kiss against Harry's temple. He was surprisingly gentle for a megalomaniac. Harry pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then nipped it gently. Voldemort shifted, forcing Harry's body down slightly. His cock brushed over something wet and he shuddered.

"Just act you said," Harry whispered. 

"Yes." 

Harry's hips shifted forward slightly as Voldemort guided him still, Harry pressing inside the older man. The other groaned, shifting his head to capture Harry's lips once again. Harry was shaking with exhaustion and pleasure as he buried himself inside the other. He assumed that it might hurt, but Voldemort definitely wasn't reacting out of pain. Harry shifted his hips back, acting more on instinct than anything else, before shifting forward again. Voldemort let out a huff against Harry's lips. He was utterly entranced with feeling the other's body and the tension in his face. Harry repeated the action, sinking into the heat of the other's body. 

Voldemort claimed his lips once more while a hand moved into Harry's hair, pulling at it slightly. 

Harry moaned, shifting his hips again to thrust into the older man. 

Pleasure began to build somewhere deep within him, except for some strange reason, it wasn't just his pleasure. It wasn't the first time he had slipped into Voldemort's mind, but now the only thing he encountered was the other's pleasure, enhancing his own. Harry's hips began to speed their movement of their own volition, enhanced by Voldemort's other hand slipping lower, pushing against his lower back to spur his movements. He groaned, burying his face in the other's neck. 

This wasn't what he expected.

But he was enjoying it.

Voldemort's hips bucked up into his own, meeting him thrust for thrust as both increased in intensity. Harry moved a hand lower, wrapping around the older man's cock. He had barely even bothered with himself, he had no idea how he could bring pleasure to someone else. But at this point, his mind wasn't thinking. He was doing as Voldemort instructed, he was just acting. He began to shift his hand, dragging up and down the older man's shaft. 

Voldemort continued to guide his hips, pressing chaste kisses against his temple before tracing Harry's ear with his tongue. 

"This is a bit narcissistic of me," Voldemort muttered, his voice thick with pleasure. 

"What is?" Harry forced himself to ask.

"You don't know?" Voldemort rolled them, straddling Harry. "I didn't know either." 

The older man grasped Harry's face with one hand, holding him in place as their eyes met. He was leaning over Harry, shifting up and down on his cock. 

"I didn't see it before," Voldemort leaned down, pressing another kiss against Harry's scar. "But you belong to me, Harry Potter."

Voldemort rolled his hips, causing Harry to gasp. His hands automatically reached for the other, pulling them close together as he bucked up into him. Their bodies tangled, and along with them, their minds. He couldn't tell where he ended and Voldemort began. 

He had one hand wrapped around the back of the other's neck while the other grasped Voldemort's, their joined hands pinned to the bed. 

Voldemort was whispering to him, saying something that Harry knew was in Parseltongue, but he couldn't comprehend anything. He was lost in his pleasure. 

It didn't take much longer for either of them. Another thrust by Harry and the meeting of their hips as Voldemort ground down against him and Harry came, his body tensing and pleasure rocking through him. Voldemort came only seconds later, spilling between them.

Harry was so exhausted, he fell asleep before Voldemort even moved off him.

The next morning, Harry woke to find a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ sitting on the table. Voldemort was still next to him when he woke, Harry's body half wrapped around his. He didn't know if the older man slept though he was distinctly aware that his skin was more than attuned to the series of patterns Voldemort had been tracing over his back. He rolled from the bed, standing on wobbly legs. The other didn't say anything, merely watched him as he walked over to see what was being said about him now.

_Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Missing; Voldemort Returns_

He sighed, dropping the paper. 

Voldemort came up behind him, running his fingers down Harry's bare arm.

"What now?" He asked quietly. 

"What do you want to do?" Voldemort whispered in his ear. Goosebumps rose on Harry's skin. Voldemort hummed, sensing his changing mood. "You left your friend, I left my Death Eaters. They'll likely think us dead." 

"Us?" 

Voldemort's arms wrapped around his bare waist. "I told you. You belong to me." 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://neurowriter14.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/NWriter14)


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